Times Like These
by RadeliaPotter
Summary: At times like these, Harry wonders what it would have been like. HarryDraco mild slash


**A/N:** I wrote this ficlet for _Meemo_, and so, this is dedicated to her. ^.^ For the standard disclaimer, I do not own anything related to Harry Potter. It belongs to JKR and other people which I don't feel like listing. You all know who they are. There's a possibility for a small sequel to this… but I'm not sure yet. I need to think of an idea first. If you want, you may visit my LiveJournal (link in bio page) for regular updates on the progress and snippets from my fic, _Remember You_ (**big** snag in this story recently, might want to check my LJ for information if you're interested), and others that I write. Friend me, I friend you. This is SLASH, which means male/male relationships. However, it is mild slash. If there is a sequel, it will definitely be slashier. That is all.

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**Times Like These**

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It was at times like these that Harry wondered what it would have been like, had he accepted that hand of friendship. It was at times like these when Draco was laughing mockingly at Harry, that he wondered if Draco would have acted the same way, had they been friends.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like?" Harry asked of Draco one day in the hall.

Draco stopped his path to the Slytherin Common room, turned and eyed Harry suspiciously. "Have I ever wondered about what would have been like, Potter?"

"If I had taken your hand of friendship in first year… if we had become friends."

Draco studied Harry for a long moment, both eyebrows raised slightly. "At first, yes, but then being enemies began to seem much more plausible then being friends did, so I stopped, and it suits me fine."

Draco turned then and walked away.

**

Two days later, Harry was sitting in the back of the Potions dungeon, attempting to brew the weakest form of a truth potion with Ron. To Harry's left was Neville, who was working with Hermione. Despite having the smartest girl helping him, he was still floundering. Their potion was pink instead of lime green; Neville was sweating, Hermione was speed reading her potions text, and Snape had just noticed their potion. Neville saw the professor bearing down on them and began fumbling for any ingredient that he could get his hands on. He ended up grabbing flobberworm mucus and began to put it in the cauldron.

"Mr. Longbottom, if you attempt to put that mucus in your –"

Snape never finished as the cauldron exploded, right after Neville dropped the mucus inside. Harry and Ron had ducked under the desk just as a safety precaution, and missed the pink potion. It exploded all over Hermione, Neville, and Snape and they were now covered in pink potion. Ron and Harry nervously peeked over their desk and saw to their utter delight that Snape was sprouting purple and pink flowers from his ears and nostrils. Unfortunately, the same effect was taking place on Hermione and Neville as well. Snape roared with anger, grabbed the two by the collars and dragged them from the room, petals falling and leaving a trail behind them.

"At least the flowers leave a cleaner looking Snape," Harry scoffed at the same time Draco said, "at least the flowers leave a cleaner looking Granger."

Ron laughed at Harry, not hearing Draco. Harry and Draco stared at each other, one horrified, and one contemplative. Again, Harry wondered what it would be like.

After class, Harry made excuses to Ron, and fell into step beside Draco. Draco eyed him out of the corner of his eye curiously, but kept walking. Crabbe and Goyle were following stupidly behind them.

"Did you ever want to be friends after first year?" Harry asked.

Draco rolled his eyes as they climbed the steps to the Great Hall. "Not particularly, Potter. You're too much of the hero and a Gryffindor to boot."

They separated as they entered the Great Hall, and headed for their respective tables to eat dinner. Harry ignored the questioning gaze from Ron and pondered what could have been.

**

The next Sunday, Harry was in the library, writing an extensive essay for Charms when Draco walked into the library with Pansy Parkinson. Harry watched them as they sat on opposite sides of a table together, and waited for Draco to get up to grab a book. When he did, Harry followed him into the stacks, finding him in the history books. Harry stopped directly behind him.

"Would you be more willing to be my friend if I had been sorted into Slytherin?"

Draco jumped slightly and turned around, glaring at the intrusion. "Are you stalking me, Potter?"

"Of course I'm not; you would have noticed. I'm not terribly stealthy."

"Which means you would have never been sorted into Slytherin, which makes your question irrelevant."

Draco began to walk along the stack again, running his fingers along spines as he looked for a book. "I'm a Parselmouth," Harry said.

"Brilliant deduction, that. Why are you telling me things I already know?"

"Because you're not asking questions about things you _don't_ know and I'm trying to give you an opening." Harry waited in silence, but Draco continued looking for books. Harry sighed. "See you, Malfoy."

Harry collected his things and left the library, oblivious that Draco had followed him out of the stacks and watched his every move with a raised eyebrow.

**

Harry saw a figure flying in the Quidditch pitch the following Thursday evening. The setting sun glinted off of silver-blond hair, giving away the identity of the person on the broom. Harry rushed to his dorm, grabbed his broom and hurried down to the pitch. He mounted his Firebolt and sped to catch up to the other boy.

"My first time flying was when we had flying lessons in first year," Harry commented as he caught up. "Remember when you stole Neville's Rememberall? That was my first time."

Draco spun angrily on his broom, coming to an abrupt halt. Harry nearly crashed into him, but veered off to the left just in time. "Of course I remember that, Potter," Draco spit out. "Come to gloat about it, have you?"

"No," Harry replied seriously, flying up so that he was level with Draco. "I was wondering when your first memory flying was, and I shared my own first."

"No use sharing when I was there. Why do you keep telling me things I already know?"

"Why do you keep asking that question when I already answered?"

Draco clenched his jaw. "Why do you keep asking me questions like we're friends?"

"I asked you a question first."

The Slytherin flew in a tight circle, trying to wear off the anger burning within him. "You want to know my first memory with flying?" he asked tightly as he stopped again. "I was four years old, and normally, I was only allowed one of those little children's brooms that don't go more than a few feet from the ground. I was always eager to fly a real broom, so I borrowed my father's from when he was in school, because I knew that he probably wouldn't notice it missing. After I was put to bed one night, I flew out of my window. I panicked almost immediately, because I never had been that high without my father before. I lost control of the broom, went spiralling to the ground and crashed. My parents heard me screaming, came out and found me all bloody with a few broken bones. Mother healed me, put me back to bed and then the next morning, I received a stern lecture from my father about disobeying him."

"What happened then?"

"Father began to give me real flying lessons, of course. He didn't want me to injure myself again." Draco scowled then. "Are you happy now?"

"Yes," Harry smiled. "Thank you."

Harry turned and flew away.

**

The next time the two boys encountered each other, Harry was on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor in the entrance hall for a detention that Filch has assigned him. Draco approached him and took Harry's cloak from where it was hanging on a statue, laid it on the floor and sat on top of it. Harry noticed him staring after a few moments and stopped scrubbing.

"You're using my cloak to sit on. Why don't you use your own?"

"My cloak is much more valuable than yours," Draco replied airily. "Anyway, it's not your turn to ask questions."

Harry sat back on his legs, intrigued. "Do you think you could have been sorted into Slytherin?"

Harry blinked. "In a heartbeat," he replied steadily.

"Why do you think so?"

"Because that's where the Hat wanted to put me at first, but I told it not to because I didn't like you and I heard it was the house to put out more evil wizards than any other."

Draco nodded once, absentmindedly running his fingertips over Harry's cloak beneath him. Harry studied him curiously until Draco looked up. "Your cloak is surprisingly soft, Potter. It looks kind of rough, like polyester. Next time you buy a cloak, buy one that looks soft, and feels soft. They're more expensive, but they're warmer. You can afford it anyway. I hear you're pretty well set financially."

Draco stood from the floor and carefully hung Harry's cloak back up, and walked away in the direction of the dungeons. Harry stared after him, blinking owlishly until Filch returned and yelled at him to get back to work.

**

After Draco started asking questions, they would stop when they met in the hallway, seek each other in the Great Hall, library, or stop each other after class. The other students and teachers watched their strange interaction with keen eyes. They tried to understand why the two rivals would ask such strange questions with vague answers. Some hypothesized that they were not vague answers at all. You just had to be either Harry or Draco to understand what was going on. Others gossiped that there was a competition between them that nobody knew about. Bets were being placed on who would hex whom first.

Three weeks after Draco asked his first question, the building pressure was palpable within the student body. They were confused by the goings on between the infamous school rivals. They wanted to see some action. On a beautiful, October day, it seemed as if they were going to finally get some more action than just questions and answers.

Students were milling around in the courtyard, enjoying the crisp, fall air. Harry was sitting in-between Hermione and Ron on a stone bench, watching Dean and Seamus hold a mock duel. A small crowd had gathered around the duo and were laughing and generally enjoying themselves, when suddenly, Draco pushed through the crowd, murder written on his face. He was stalking towards Harry.

"Potter!" he growled.

Everybody stopped what they were doing, including Dean and Seamus to watch the newest interaction. Harry stood up, lifting his chin. "Malfoy…."

Draco stopped a few inches from him and glared. "Do you _ever_ brush your hair, Potter?"

Harry stared back solemnly. "I try to remember to do it at least every other day, but sometimes I only remember twice a week."

"I knew it. You're such a slob."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "At least I'm not a grease monkey."

Draco's mouth twitched and he sucked a little of his bottom lip between his teeth as if to stop it.

Harry noticed because he was staring at his mouth.

Harry felt his own mouth twitching in amusement. He tried to stop it, but a smile spread across his face and he laughed. The noise cracked Draco's resistance and he laughed as well. He immediately stopped however, looking a bit shocked. To cover the awkwardness, Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a small comb. "I've never used it yet. You need it more than I do." He shoved it into Harry's hand and walked away.

The crowd around them dissolved into upset whispering. Harry sat back in his place on the bench, pocketing the comb. "Harry?" Hermione asked curiously.

Harry looked at her, smiling benignly. "Yes, Hermione?"

She opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, and shook her head. "Nothing, Harry, it's nothing."

**

The questions continued after that, and much to everybody's chagrin, they were even more confused by them.

"Do you like mashed potatoes?" (No, I don't like potatoes. They taste too plant-like.)

"Do you die your hair blond?" (Blasphemy!)

"What's your favourite month?" (I'm not bothered by any.) "You're useless, Potter."

"Which of your sidekicks do you like more – Crabbe or Goyle?" (Definitely Goyle… no question about it.) "Oh?" (Yes, he's the one who doesn't snore.)

"Which eye do you like more – the left or right?" (… What?) :sigh: "You're useless."

The strange questions slowly gave way to personal and sometimes obscene questions that often put the two in detention if a teacher was around to hear. When Draco asked Harry how many times he wanks a day, McGonagall had grabbed him by the ear and pulled him away. Draco was sulking at dinner that day because he received bathroom cleaning duty for a month in the Slytherin dormitories. Harry caught up with him after dinner with a large grin on his face.

"So, who do you fantasize about while wanking?"

"He's a person that I made up, because nobody else is good enough for my fantasies, and he's beautiful."

"He?" Harry asked, eyes opening wide.

Draco let out a small 'eep.' "That's two questions, Potter. That's considered cheating."

"No it isn't. We've asked two questions in a row before."

"Well… I don't want to answer that one," Draco retorted and hurried away. Harry had not felt inclined to stare after Draco since his detention with cleaning floors. He felt inclined to do so now.

**

Harry waited a few days to answer the question he wanted to ask. He let Draco ask him a couple questions first, then steeled himself when he saw the Slytherin Quidditch team return to the castle from a particularly hard practice. Harry was waiting when Draco entered. His hair was damp from the shower he had taken in the changing rooms, and his cheeks had a slight pink hue. Draco did not notice him, so he followed him until they reached the stairs leading down to the dungeons. Harry laid a hand on his shoulder. When Draco stopped, the other players stopped as well and watched them, curious despite themselves.

"Who do you fancy in this school?"

Harry saw Draco's eyes dance quickly as if thinking. A light blush coloured his face even more, and Harry thought it was endearing. "I don't fancy anybody here, Potter. I told you that I haven't met anybody who's good looking enough to meet with my standards." Draco glanced at Harry's hand which was still placed lightly on his shoulder. "Take your hand off me. I don't like it when you touch me."

"Why?"

"I just don't. It's almost curfew, goodnight."

**

The next time they met, was on a Saturday in mid-December in a corridor on the fifth floor. Harry did not know why Draco was on the fifth floor, wandering aimlessly when he should be at lunch. "Lost?"

"No," Draco frowned.

"Why are you up here? There aren't classes today."

"I was looking for something."

"Oh? What were you looking for?"

"The Gryffindor Common room," Draco replied, blushing again.

Harry smiled, and almost reached out to touch the other boy's cheek, but stopped himself in mid-movement. Draco looked at him strangely, but decided to ignore the gesture. Harry cleared his throat. "Why were you looking for Gryffindor?"

"I have a question."

"Well, there's lunch. You could have seen me there."

"I didn't want an audience."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, but kept silent, curious to hear Draco's new question. "When you started asking me questions, did you want to be friends?"

"Oh! Er – friendship wasn't really what I was looking for. I was just thinking about what it would have been like if we had been friends, and wondered what you thought."

"Oh, okay. See you later, Potter."

Harry watched him go for a few moments, sighed, and ran after him. "Malfoy, wait up, will you?"

Draco stopped and turned his head slightly. "What?"

"What did you expect when you started asking questions?"

"I don't know."

"Why did you start asking questions?"

"I was curious about you. You've always seemed sort of mysterious to me."

They stared at each other for a few moments, considering each other. "Am I still a mystery to you?" Harry asked quietly.

"No. I found out that I was a bit misguided in my assumption that you're mysterious. You're rather boring, really."

"I'll remember to thank you later," Harry said dryly.

"Do you want to be friends, Potter?" Draco asked suddenly.

"Are you offering?"

"No, I'm just asking."

"Do _you_ want to be friends?"

"Are _you_ offering?"

"No."

"I asked first," Draco huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't know."

"Neither do I."

"Oh, please," scoffed a Hufflepuff boy who ascended the stairs near them at that moment, "you two are the only ones who haven't realised that you have been friends since this whole thing started."

Draco glared nastily at the boy. "Who are you, Huffy?"

"I'm a Hufflepuff, not a Huffy, and my name is Ernie Macmillan."

"Ignore him, Ernie," Harry said, smiling slightly. "Malfoy doesn't know how to be nice."

Ernie laughed as he walked past them. "He's nice to you, Harry. Face it, you two are friends." Ernie disappeared around a corner, chuckling softly to himself.

"I don't like Hufflepuffs," Draco said vehemently.

"They aren't so bad," Harry shrugged.

The boys made eye contact and fell silent. Harry hardly noticed that his gaze had fallen to Draco chewing on the right side of his lower lip. He wanted to lean forward and nibble on the side of the lip that stuck out because of Draco's action. It was times like these where Harry wondered if he was completely sane.

"Do you think we've become friends without realising it?" Draco asked, sounding distressed.

"It's possible," Harry replied, finally looking up from Draco's mouth.

"Do you think we should just make it official?"

"How do we do that?"

"We shake on it… and perhaps some sort of contract or something."

"Oh. I don't know if a contract is necessary. Do you want to shake on it?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe we should, especially if people are saying we are friends already," Harry suggested nervously.

"Okay," Draco swallowed. "You go first."

"What?"

"Hold out your hand first, you idiot."

"Oh, er – okay, I suppose."

Harry stuck out his hand, swearing in his head as he realised it was sweaty. Draco hesitated, staring at the proffered hand, but slowly reached out and grasped Harry's. Draco's lip curled in disgust. "Your hand is all sweaty."

"Yours is cold."

"You're an idiot."

"You're a wanker."

"Only every other day."

Harry's face almost broke out into a grin, but was stopped in the action when students swarmed the hall, cheering loudly for them. "It's about bloody time!" yelled Terry Boot.

"You two have been driving us crazy!" Seamus called out.

"Now you have to snog!" yelled out somebody else that was hidden in the crowd.

Draco blushed and let his hand drop from Harry's. "Aww, how cute!" a girl from the crowd cooed.

"Sorry," Draco drawled, "we've just established that we're friends. I'm sure we're not ready for that. The show is over."

The crowd sighed in disappointment and began to disperse. Draco turned his head and made eye contact with Harry. A smile, as though it was involuntary, pushed the corners of his mouth up. "Unless you _want_ to go find an empty room to have the daylights snogged out of you." Something inside of Harry gave a slight pull, making him a bit short of breath, and a grin slowly pulled at his own face.

Draco placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and smiled again. "Don't worry, Potter, I don't find you attractive in the least. I don't think we'll ever see the day when I'm pulling you into an empty room to snog."

 Harry grinned even more. "Pity."

 It was at times like these that Harry wondered what it would be like if Draco had not been joking. 


End file.
